


Birthday Boy

by ElizabethWilde



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Melinda May, Capsicoul - Freeform, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Confident Steve Rogers, Cute, Fanboy Phil Coulson, Fluff, Friendship, Gay Phil Coulson, Gay Steve Rogers, Getting Together, Humor, IRS Agent Coulson, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Oral Sex, Stripper Steve Rogers, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWilde/pseuds/ElizabethWilde
Summary: Phil is a high powered, moderately high profile agent for the government. The IRS, specifically. When Phil’s friends buy him a lap dance from his favorite stripper for his birthday, things go much better than anticipated.





	Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This idea struck me while driving to work. Yes, people, this is how I avoid thinking about work. Can you blame me?
> 
> Note that while the sex here is entirely of the fantasy variety, in real life, always use a condom. Especially in the back room of a strip club.

Phil was starting to hate his friends. It was bad enough that they’d been watching him closely enough to know that he frequented The Tower, the hottest gay strip joint in town, but the fact that they’d brought him there for his birthday was the last straw. The second Natasha whipped the blindfold off and he beheld the gleaming blue neon announcing the club’s name, he groaned. “Why? What did I do to you guys?”

“Nothing,” Clint chimed in, clapping a hand on his back. “Nothing on the record, anyway, but it’s a good idea to keep your nose clean. Now, c’mon. You have shots to do and a show to enjoy.”

Phil’s gaze narrowed to suspicious slits. “Since when are you into male strippers?”

Clint shrugged. “I’m not, but she is.” He jerked a thumb toward his red-haired girlfriend with a grin. “And when mama’s happy, everybody’s happy.”

Arching an eyebrow at Melinda, Phil pressed, “Et tu?” 

“Boys aren’t the only pretty things on display in there,” she answered smoothly before pushing ahead of them all and entering the club like it belonged to her. When Melinda May walked into a room, everyone and everything did belong to her if she wanted them to. 

Phil sighed as Natasha took one of his arms and Clint the other. The pair of them manhandled him inside. Normally he lingered toward the back of the club. Phil liked anonymity. He liked watching without being watched. He especially liked watching The Captain. Given the bill listed on the sandwich board inside, apparently his friends knew that too. Phil blushed and considered whether he might be able to slip away without anyone noticing after the alcohol started to flow.

“We’re not letting you go,” Clint asserted as if reading his mind. “It’s your birthday. For once you aren’t going to retreat to your apartment for wine and classical music. Even if I can’t get you laid, I can at least make sure you get some action, buddy. Sit.” He shoved Phil down in one of the chairs at the table closest to the stage. “Round of shots!” he called out to no one in particular.

A waitress drifted in, her long hair tied back and her eyes hidden by dark make-up. She grinned at the sight of the group. “Hey there, stranger! Ooo, you brought friends? And sitting in the front? Look at you… Drinks coming up!”

Phil sank lower in his chair at Clint’s knowing smirk. “She’s friendly,” he muttered as if the woman hadn’t just outed him as a regular.

“Duh, she’s a cocktail waitress at a strip joint.”

Phil just sighed. His expression softened when Natasha leaned in and whispered against his ear, “Enjoy yourself for once. No one’s watching.” She drew back and winked, “Except us.”

She never failed to know what he was thinking. Phil turned to reply but squeal of the MC’s microphone drew his gaze back to the stage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, lend me your eyeballs! We’ve got the hottest boys in town on our stage ready to make your night something to remember.” 

Even as Phil’s instincts told him to hide, his desire to see the show told him to sit up straighter. His body took over, elbows braced on the table as he leaned in toward the stage. When one of the opening acts came on, Phil let himself relax, sitting back. He knew that even if everyone else had missed his attentiveness, Natasha hadn’t, but she simply smiled at him. Melinda had already slipped away. He spotted her chatting up their waitress while the woman waited on their tray of shots. At least somebody’s going home with company, Phil thought with a fond smile. 

The waitress was blushing by the time she came back to the table. He could see it even through her too-heavy make up. Melinda looked like the cat that ate the canary. Or the cute waitress. He supposed that would come later. Phil took one of the shots only when Clint insisted. “I’m not the only one who’s getting drunk for your birthday, buddy,” Clint assured him with a companionable grin. 

Phil gave in, drinking whatever Clint handed him. The buzz that settled in actually helped. By the time the audience started freaking out around them, he felt human and at ease. “You’re still all terrible people,” he reminded his friends sincerely while they whistled. After a jello shot courtesy of Natasha, Phil found that he wasn’t quite as annoyed by Clint’s antics. He felt a familiar thrill when the crowd cheered heartily and the lights went down again. That could mean exactly one thing. He’d been too dazed to notice the introduction, but no one could miss the tall, gorgeous blond who took the stage. He was all muscles and confidence and a smile that lit up the room, and Phil soon forgot that he’d come with anyone at all. He damn near forgot his name, a condition that only worsened as the number drew to a close and instead of going backstage, the man in question stepped down into the audience and walked right up to their table.

“Excuse me,” the man began in a voice too sweet and sincere to come from someone wearing nothing but a stars and stripes g-string, “but somebody requested a private show.”

“Yes! I did!” Clint almost tripped over the table to stand behind Phil and plant his hands on the man’s shoulder. “For him. This guy here? It’s his birthday.”

“I gathered that from the message the manager gave me,” the stripper agreed, watching as Clint almost fell again getting back to his chair only to be grabbed by Natasha and tipped easily into the seat. Despite the neat row of shot glasses lined up in front of her, the woman seemed none the worse for wear. He redirected his attention to Phil, who found that he was forgetting to breathe in addition to forgetting his name. “I can do something for you here, but it’s… well, that doesn’t really count as a private show. I have a dressing room. That might be more comfortable.” Taking the stunned silence that followed as agreement, the man smiled. “If you’d follow me?” 

Phil found himself following in a daze that had precious little to do with the alcohol. He probably would have felt bad for staring at the man’s ass while they walked under normal circumstances, but in the dim light, the reflective shorts were a pretty decent beacon. When they paused at the door, Phil almost ran directly into him. Only then did the bizarre nature of the situation settle in. The door swung open before he could make a polite retreat, and then it was being held open rather gallantly, leaving Phil shuffling inside on instinct. “My friend… he… you don’t…” It was difficult to be at all coherent. The problem grew more pronounced when Phil turned and found himself the sole recipient of the attention from those gorgeous blue eyes. 

“I know,” came the reply, along with an amused quirk of the man’s lips. “I’ve never actually… I don’t usually agree to this, but the manager pointed you out to me. I’ve seen you before, and I thought… anyway, I said yes. There’s a chair if you’d like to sit. Probably more comfortable that way.” 

Stunned to find that him being the recipient of the dance had been a help not a hindrance in getting The Captain’s agreement, Phil took the chair. It was plush and comfortable, and when he glanced down at it, the fabric looked more suited to a grandmother’s sitting room than a stripper’s dressing room. “You said yes because of me?” Phil knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but he needed to understand the concept of why it mattered. 

“Mmm hmm,” the man agreed. Even half drunk, Phil was alert enough to notice when the dancer moved in closer. Muscle mass and grace rarely went together so perfectly. “Your friend paid for a lap dance. Seems like it would be awfully rude to short change him. Hope you don’t mind.”

Minding was the last thing Phil did, but being terrified warred heartily with the impulse to sit back and enjoy. “I… you don’t have-”

“So what if I want to?” 

Again Phil found himself wondering how someone wearing so little and covered in so much body glitter could manage to sound shy. Shy and polite, two words Phil had not expected to associate with anything happening in a back room at a strip club. The shots he’d tossed back earlier made Phil just bold enough to admit, “Then I really don’t want to stop you.” 

“Okay. Good.” The dancer leaned in until his lips were next to Phil’s ear, his strong hands braced on the arms of the chair. “My name’s Steve.” Phil must have looked as dazed as he felt by the revelation, because when Steve drew back a little, the man chuckled. “I do have a real name.” Before Phil formed any cohesive reply, Steve began to move, and rational thought fled again. Steve was gorgeous, a wall of head to toe perfection that Phil honestly hadn’t thought existed outside his fantasies until he laid eyes on The Cap- on Steve. 

Phil didn’t realize his fingers had been stretching out toward Steve until the object of his attention braced himself on the chair again and leaned in close. “You can touch.” Phil looked up and saw that Steve’s eyes were dark. It struck him with a shock that Steve was as interested in the proceedings as he was, which made no sense whatsoever. A thread of hesitance crept into Steve’s expression as the silence stretched out between them. “If you… you want…”

Just as Steve moved to shift back and that shyness from earlier became something closer to disappointment, Phil’s body caught up if not his brain. He reached out, fingers curling around the back of Steve’s neck. To his surprise, the touch drew a soft sigh from Steve. “Tell me what you want.” He wasn’t sure if it was being half drunk or the heady feeling of Steve’s body so close to his own, but Phil didn’t trust himself to guess at anything. He almost asked if Clint had paid for the act too, some kind of fantasy fulfillment that he both wanted and didn’t want at all if it was fake. The words died before they reached his lips. Somehow he couldn’t picture Steve being a prostitute, which was ridiculous considering seducing large groups of people was literally what the man did for a living.

Despite that, Phil saw no lie in the breathless parting of Steve’s lips or the way his eyes fell half closed as he leaned in a little closer. “I’d like to kiss you.” 

Phil did away with hesitation for the both of them. Life had taught him long before that good things didn’t happen to good people as often as they should. He closed the last of the distance and felt Steve’s lips on his own. He tasted like chapstick and peppermint, and Phil promptly decided that was the perfect way to taste. The kiss moved from tentative to hungry in moments. Phil found himself with a lap full of muscular stripper. Not only was he kissing Steve like his life depended on it, Steve was kissing him right back. In fact, as Steve’s hips shifted and crashed into his own, he honest to god whimpered, and it was the sexiest thing Phil had ever heard in his life. “Seems like maybe you want to do more than kissing.” Phil caught sight of the blush staining Steve’s cheeks as his hands came to rest on Phil’s shoulders. 

“We can stop if-”

Phil silenced the words with another kiss. He didn’t want to stop anything. If it was all a crazy dream brought on by Clint slipping something in his drink, that was fine and dandy. He was a grown man who would have gladly taken part in the fantasy enfolding around him at any point during the preceding months. He wanted Steve. The only surprise was Steve wanting him. They began moving together by unspoken cue, and Phil felt Steve heavy and hard against him. His mind swam back out of focus at the realization that he had somehow gotten Steve hard from a little light frottage and a few kisses. 

His hands wandered lower, and Phil gave himself a moment to enjoy the feeling as his hand closed over the prominent bulge in Steve’s barely-there shorts. He watched Steve’s eyes roll back while his hips moved of their own accord. The truth was that the real reactions were well beyond any fantasies he had allowed himself. Phil stroked Steve, the touch teasing through the slippery fabric but still plenty entertaining if the way the man’s hips bucked into his touch were any indication. 

Steve looked back down at him and seemed to regain some cognitive ability. “I- I don’t do this. Swear to god, I don’t do this. Normally, I mean. I don’t-”

“I got that impression,” Phil agreed with all the equilibrium he could manage as he watched Steve shifting against his hand and generally looking like a wet dream come to life. “It’s okay. My brain is definitely not up to making assumptions right now. I just really want you to enjoy this.”

“N-no problems there,” Steve agreed with a shaky laugh. The smile on his face was worlds away from his public face, more lopsided adorable. Phil kind of loved that smile. He also loved the sensation as Steve reached between them to palm his erection through his slacks. “Really want you to enjoy it too.”

For an embarrassing second, Phil honestly thought he might come in his pants like a teenager, but his resolve held out despite his body doing the hormonal equivalent of a happy dance at the contact. “Don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” 

“No?” Steve chuckled in response to the dry observation and leaned in for another lingering kiss. It gave them both a second to catch their brother, consider what they were doing, and plunge blindly ahead anyway. Strong, gentle fingers reached for the fly of Phil’s pants and hesitated there. “Can I?” 

“In the interest of clear communication,” Phil answered breathlessly, “it’s going to generally be fair for you to assume a yes in perpetuity.”

The blond laughed softly again and gave a nod of acceptance. “Got it… but I gotta warn you, the fact that you remember so many twenty-five cent words right now is kinda making me feel like I need to take this up a notch.” 

Considering that Steve just existing was pretty impressive and being touched and kissed by him felt like a fantasy, Phil had no idea what taking things up a notch might look like. He nodded somewhat stupidly. “Understood.” He wished he’d thought of something sexier or more interesting, but Steve unzipping his pants and sliding down onto the floor between Phil’s knees had his brain fighting to find any blood to work with. “Oh,” he breathed in an equally eloquent fashion when Steve wrapped a hand around his cock and leaned forward. Phil gripped the arms of the chair so hard he expected to hear fabric tearing. 

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed as he licked his way around the head of Phil’s cock, and it was easily the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Ever. Phil swallowed hard and tried to remember to breathe. If he passed out, he might miss watching Steve, and that would have been an unforgivable crime because even as Phil took a few shaky breaths, Steve was finally closing his mouth around Phil’s cock. Even before he started, Phil knew it would take him an embarrassingly short amount of time to come. He found that he didn’t really care. For once in his life, every light was green, and if ever there had been a time to let go, this was it. “S-steve, this is… wow, that feels good, and- uh, this…” Phil refocused and tried again, “Close.” 

Steve hummed his answer, which didn’t help the situation in the slightest, and opened his mouth. If his mouth hadn’t been full, Phil felt reasonably sure he would have been smiling. The heat of his mouth and the smile in his eyes undid Phil quickly. He tried to stammer out a warning, failed, and moved his grip from the arm of the chair to Steve’s glitter-coated hair as climax washed over him. In the unending series of miracles that were his life for the night, Steve didn’t budge, just kept sucking until Phil felt as if his whole body was melting into the chair and his ability to communicate had been reduced to rather pitiful whimpers of pleasure. 

Finally Steve drew back with his lips swollen, and he offered a smile of satisfied pleasure. “Hope you don’t mind. Couldn’t quite stop myself.”

“Yes in perpetuity, remember?” Phil replied with a lazy smile. “Hey, I’d kinda like to return the favor, though. Once I can move again.”

“Or you could not move.” Steve rose with the same sinuous grace he showed onstage and carefully pulled down the waistband of his barely-there shorts. He took his own cock in hand and gave it a slow stroke. “You can stay right where you are.”

Phil put the pieces together in his head with admirable speed given the situation and nodded happily. “Excellent idea.” With a plan of action ahead of him, Phil grabbed for Steve’s hips and all but jerked him forward. Steve followed along with a groan, kneeling on the chair with his knees bracketing Phil’s hips and his cock at almost exactly the right height. Phil wasted absolutely no time getting a taste. Steve was practically dripping and hard as a rock, and Phil felt no small measure of pride in that fact. 

Even with his brain half checked out, Phil felt confident in his skills giving head. He didn’t bring guys home in droves, but he prided himself on making sure that the ones he did bring home had a great time. The gasp that left Steve’s lips as he took the man down to the base gave him an added confidence boost. It seemed his skills hadn’t slipped. Phil used his grip on Steve’s hips to encourage him to move, which he finally did, body shifting slightly to thrust shallowly into Phil’s mouth. Steve kept one hand on Phil’s shoulder and another carded soothingly through his hair. 

Phil, for his part, did his best not to think too much about how nice it felt to have Steve more or less petting him and instead kept himself focused on using his mouth and tongue to get the man off. Whereas he had been all but silent until after he came, Steve couldn’t seem to keep from making soft noises with every stroke. He moaned, he groaned, he gasped, and Phil could have gotten hard from that alone if his climax hadn’t been so spectacular. 

Steve’s fingers clenched almost too-hard on Phil’s hair, then relaxed, “Spe-speaking of c-close… God, Phil, your mouth…” He sounded absolutely wrecked, insanely sexy, and Phil didn’t let up for a second. He wanted everything. Apparently Steve took the hint because he finally let go. His cock pulsed in Phil’s mouth, a keening cry torn from his throat as he came hard. It had been awhile since Phil went down on anyone quite so well endowed, so he gave himself extra style points for not choking and not missing a drop. 

In the aftermath, Steve shifted to sit half on Phil and half on the arm of the chair as if he couldn’t quite convince himself to try and find a more graceful solution. Steve curled in a little closer, and his head rested on Phil’s shoulder as their breathing slowed back to normal. Finally he asked with a hint of his earlier shyness, “So d’you think we can maybe do this again? In, like, a normal kinda way?” Steve shifted to kneel in front of the chair again presumably so that he could get a read on Phil’s expression. “Like a date?”

Phil blinked owlishly at him. His body caught up first, and Phil was nodding long before he found the words. “You really… yes, of course. Yes. You really want to?” He sounded every bit as surprised as he felt because there was no disguising that he found it hard to believe.

Steve smiled and crossed his arms over Phil’s knees, resting his chin on them. “Yeah. I really want to.” 

“Okay.” Phil let himself digest the apparently truthful nature of the response. He took in the beauty of Steve’s flushed face and his pleased smile, and he wondered just how much trouble he had gotten himself into. “Maybe we start with formal introductions?” It sounded dumb, but Phil didn’t care anymore. He smiled right back at the man. “Phil Coulson.”

Steve gamely held his hand out and gave Phil’s a firm shake. “Steve Rogers. So, Phil, I hear you’re an accountant.”

“I work for the IRS, so it’s… yeah, close enough.” Phil laughed and took a breath. “I understand you’re an entertainer?”

“Oh, so politically correct!” Steve rocked back to sit on the floor and laughed heartily. “No. Well, yes, I am, I strip, but that’s not what I am. I’m, uh, an art student. Before you ask, I know I’m a little old to think liberal arts is a real career and stripping is a real job.” He shrugged and allowed, “Good money, though, and when I got out of the army… it was something to do. I’m going to school with no loans, and that feels pretty good.” 

The more Steve talked, the more surprised Phil was, and he was starting to question everything about the stupid assumptions he made on a daily basis. “I think we should definitely have coffee and discuss this further. Possibly with our pants on.”

“Possibly,” Steve agreed, “at least until after the coffee.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Silly decency laws.”

Phil stood carefully and took the opportunity to get himself more or less presentable again, his gaze drifting to Steve as the man grabbed some boxers and jeans from a chair in front of his dressing table, before fishing his wallet out of back pocket. He pulled out one of his business cards and quickly scrawled his cell phone number on the back. “Just tell me what time’s good. Anytime. Seriously.” He saw a hint of hesitation on Steve’s face as he took the card. “Seriously.”

The doubt faltered and sputtered out, and Steve smiled again. “Sorry. I don’t meet a lot of guys, especially not through this, and not that… not that I like. Not coffee kinda guys.”

“I can understand that. I don’t meet a lot of those either.” The sight of Steve’s quick, easy smiles when he was pleased could easily become an addiction. Phil let himself drift closer to the man’s orbit again. “I’m just sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t know.” Steve shrugged, but the words jogged something for Phil.

“You said you’ve seen me before, but… what actually made you say yes?” He wasn’t naive enough to think Steve had simply spotted him in the crowd and decided he was worth a shot.

Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I, uh… actually, I kinda know Nat - uh, your friend Natasha? She’s in my life drawing class on Wednesday nights.”

Phil blinked. Whatever he had expected, that wasn’t it. He was going to have a very long talk with Natasha. Later. After that talk, he would probably owe her something nice. A vacation home. A car. Something on par with the evening he’d had. “That makes more sense.”

Steve reached out, fingers smoothing Phil’s hair down a little before he ducked in and brushed a gentle kiss across the man’s lips. “Forgive me for not saying anything?”

The kiss warmed him right to the tips of his toes, and Phil forget what he’d been annoyed about. “I think I can do that,” he agreed readily, “if you kiss me again.”

Soft lips closed in against his, and Steve’s arms slid around him. “Happy birthday, Phil.”


End file.
